


Parts of a whole

by protaganope



Series: Sanders Sides human!AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ballet, Doctor/Patient, Gen, Injury, i know it sounds like I’ve pulled these tags out of a magic hat but they’re true, part of an au i’m building, wow i use that tag a lot don’t i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protaganope/pseuds/protaganope
Summary: It shouldn’t be like this. But here they are.





	Parts of a whole

Roman is one of the most graceful people that he knows, so when Logan is woken up to treat the boy at around 2 o’clock in the morning he is, understandably, a little confused. He’s only seen so many cuts and bruises on Patton, and he has a blood disorder, for crying out loud!

 

The single light bulb sways from its fixed chord in the ceiling, casting moving shadows on Roman’s reclined form as he sighs.

 

“Sorry to bother you, nerd,” Roman begins breezily, accented voice betraying him though the increased volume, and Logan hides his wince with an incline of his head. “Ballet has taken quite a lot out of me this past few weeks.” There is guilt threaded into his words, but Logan doesn’t bother reacting to it. Though Roman doesn’t explain further, he doesn't need to: Logan knows.

 

He clears his throat. “Your apologies are unnecessary, Roman, as long as you do not refrain from calling on me when it gets like this -- preferably before you get into such a state, actually. This is highly counterproductive to your goal, as you must know.” He talks evenly and slowly as he says this, hands and eyes busy inspecting the other’s beaten body.

 

Before he can continue his scolding, however, Roman makes a sharp, painful intake of breath as Logan brushes against a particularly sore part of his leg. Logan gives him a knowing look from behind his glasses, eyebrows slightly drawn and unimpressed.

 

“I know, I know; just, please do tell me when this becomes too much of a bother. Please.” Roman’s voice becomes strangled as he finishes, and his sun-kissed hair falls into brown eyes that have apparently become greatly intrigued by the pale linoleum stretching over the floor. Logan pauses, and he adjusts his glasses.

 

He hasn’t a clue what it is that he should say. 

 

A police car glides past outside, and the blue lights invite themselves in through the blinds, temporarily dying the room in navy.

 

He decides to reach toward Roman’s shoulder, and carefully rests a hand there. What was it about these late night visits that made people so transparent? It made no sense. He made a mental note to search online, later.

 

“You are a patient, but also my-” Logan takes a small, praying breath in, and begins again, softer this time. “And also my friend. I could never say no.” Roman doesn’t look reassured by his words.

 

Logan sprays antiseptic into his wounds before reaching blindly for the tape.

 

The noise of his fingers grasping for the needed bandaging echoes a little in the concrete room. It’s not an incredibly small room, mind, but there was no wasted space— Logan would never be able to think in such a cramped environment, and so there were a couple of large windows adorning each wall. The things were almost always open, Logan ran hot, and it was luck alone that the night held enough wind that few creepy crawlies could come to pass through the open glass.

 

“Still,” Roman whispers lowly, more to himself than Logan, and the doctor shrewdly pretends not to hear.

 

He finishes off the most obvious injuries, before a particularly persistent voice in his head— one that sounds unnervingly like Patton— demands that Logan address a particular thought as he watches Roman sit up from the couch.

 

“They haven’t been doing _that_ again, have they?” Roman flushes at his words, ears red as he begins to fidget in place. Logan sighs loudly. “What did I say? This won’t end well for you, Roman.” He decides to stop there, before his voice takes on something more noticeably emotional, but from the shiny veneer to Roman’s eyes, the boy knows.

 

Logan spins away on his heel and throws some bandages at Roman over his shoulder. A beat, and he passes him a plastic bag with some more miscellaneous medical supplies, the kind the doctor’s quite usually absent brother had brought for him just days ago.

 

Roman mutters a thanks, voice again dark and low as he steadies onto his feet. Logan ruffles his hair, the action eliciting a squawking protest from the boy.

 

“You’re only a couple inches taller, I’m not that short!” Roman yelps, but there was something one could call a smile on his face as he reaches up to bat the offending limb away. Logan’s hand is rough and heavy and a great deal awkward, but the guarded look on his face makes Roman still. “And just because you are convinced that you are older does not mean that you can treat me like a child.” Though he says this with an equally reserved expression, he can’t resist leaning into the display of affection that Logan rarely allows himself.

 

Something clicks in the doctor’s eyes and the corner of his mouth curls. His hands returns to his sides, returning home to rest on his lovehandles.

 

“Well then, I suppose your departure is due. I myself have an appointment to attend in a few hours, and still have a few items unchecked on my list.” Logan’s sclera flash white as he rolls his eyes, head moving slightly, hazel irises rising to hide behind drooping eyelids. Roman makes for the door. Logan settles down at his desk, computer already loading. They never dwell on things like this. Logan has things to do, and Roman has to practice.

 

As Roman states his farewells, the other simply raises a scarred hand, already enthralled in his work.

 


End file.
